Koselig
by magnets
Summary: "You're like something directly out of a kid's fairy tale." "What's wrong with fairy tales?" A not-so-modern modern AU
1. I

"So let me get this straight," the man said, and Anna rolled her eyes before she could stop herself. She hastily covered this up by ducking her head and faking a dramatic sneeze into her hand; probably best not to appear too sassy right then, in her hour of need.

He didn't say bless you. She resented that.

The sun hung low in the sky in a very late-afternoon-like way, and it made her uneasy. She clung to her remaining patience and took a deep breath. "I already told you everything," she said, straining to keep her tone even, to refrain from bouncing on her toes. She could practically feel the time drain away with every tick of her heart. "I really, really, _really_ need help."

The man cocked an eyebrow. He was taller than she would've liked, much too tall to level eyes with, and so broad in the shoulders that his shadow fell over her like a blanket. This made it a bit difficult for her to appear tough and intimidating. Behind him, a shabby delivery truck ran idle with the words _Arendelle Ice Supply_ painted across the side in faded block letters. The same words marked the front of his shirt pocket in tiny embroidered script. He stood with his arms crossed and his feet planted, and met her gaze with something vaguely condescending in his expression. "Let me just get this straight," he repeated, and Anna forced a cough, suppressing the low groan that welled in the back of her throat. "Your limo driver cancelled on you. You can't drive a car. You can't figure out how to use a phone. So you want _me_ to give you a ride to this, ah, Saxophone Hotel-"

"Saxifrage," she corrected him, irritably.

"-which is all the way across town-"

"Only a few dozen blocks..."

"-so you can be on time for some frilly party-"

"The debutante ball, yes."

"-and meet up with your boyfriend-"

_"Fiancé."_

"-and live happily ever after?"

"More or less, yeah." Her eyes strayed past his shoulder to the city hall clock tower, which loomed just within sight behind the bakery. It was a quarter past three. She wrenched her focus back to the delivery man, her heart sputtering, and forced a wide smile. "Sooo? Whattaya say?"

He considered her with a deadpan face. A split second passed. "No."

_"What?!"_

He was already turning his back on her, and she scurried after him, bunching up the front of her gown in her fists as she hopped down off the curb. "Oh _c'mon_, I could really use a hand here!"

"I'm on the clock, kid." The delivery man lumbered around towards the back of the truck, and Anna tagged along, hovering over his shoulder like a fretful bird as he pried open the dented double doors. There was a gust of chilly air and Anna found herself shivering as she peered into the large box-like room and saw walls lined with frost. A huge block of ice took up almost the entire space, shimmering dully in the late summer sun. Anna watched with acute fascination as the man drew a small metal pick from his belt and began to expertly chip away at the ice. He spoke as he did so. "I don't have time to give strange girls free rides to flashy downtown parties. Besides..." He threw her a skeptical sideways glance. "This doesn't exactly strike me as an emergency situation."

"It is _too_ an emergency!" Anna insisted, her breath pluming out like a cloud from the chill. She drew herself up to her fullest height, even going so far as to stand on her tiptoes. It didn't make much of a difference. "And it's not a party," she added, crossing her arms indignantly. "It's a _ball_."

This clearly did little to help her case. The man leaned towards the ice and continued to tap at it, whistling as he did so. Anna sighed, but stood her ground. She wasn't about to give up yet. "Look, Christopher-"

"Kristoff," he said flatly.

"Kristoff. I've got nowhere else to turn, y'know? I'm begging you. I'm desperate. I'm literally on my _knees_ here."

He spared her another sideways glance. "You're not on your knees."

"Okay, you got me there." She waved her hand dismissively. "This dress is too nice to beg in. But I'm serious about the desperate part. I'm basically a damsel in distress!" He continued to concentrate on the ice block, showing no signs of sympathy - clearly not the hero type. Or a fan of fairy tales. She hesitated, tapping her chin and chewing her lip, thinking fast. "Besides, uh... who said anything about a free ride? I'll pay you."

The doors closed with a rattling clang and Kristoff walked off again, but she was determined to stick right at his heels. "If you have money, why don't you just call a cab?" he asked over his shoulder, twirling the pick in his hand as he made his way back to the front of the truck. "I mean, that's an obvious solution, isn't it?"

Anna blew irritably out the corner of her mouth, and her bangs lifted with it. Of course it was obvious; she had considered it long before she'd chosen to approach _him, _a random ice delivery man, in the centre of the city square. However, she had no real desire to admit that she had no idea how to hail a taxi. She'd never done it before. She wasn't even sure how to attempt it. From what she had observed in the past, those things seemed to just appear in front of people right when they needed them. No rhyme, no reason. It puzzled her. She racked her brains for a more normal, less embarrassing excuse. "Cabs can be dangerous, y'know?" she said casually, gesturing to herself. "I could get robbed, dressed like this. I just feel really uncomfortable riding with strangers."

"_I'm_ a stranger!" Kristoff said incredulously.

"Hey, I thought we were making a connection!" Anna exclaimed. She plucked a bit of frost off his shoulder and swiped it away between her fingers. "We're a couple of chums, you and I. Real pals, y'know? Practically inseparable."

"Oh sure." He snorted and unclipped his toolbelt, tossing it through the open window of the passenger seat and raising an eyebrow. "We've known each other how long? Almost ten whole minutes?"

"Ten_ golden_ minutes," Anna said, batting her eyelashes as she forced a saccharine smile. She threw yet another nervous glance at the clock tower. "Look, I know it's inconvenient and weird, but could you _please _just be the good friend I know you can be and find it in your heart to help a poor old - _GAH!"_

She staggered backwards and nearly fell into the street, and was only saved from being hit by a large milk truck due to Kristoff's reflexes. He nonchalantly reached out, grabbed her by the collar of her dress, and yanked her out of the way right at the last second. He might as well have been moving a rag doll. She didn't have time to process the moment, or even feel grateful for being saved (or annoyed for having her dress wrinkled.) Her heart thundered in her ears and it had nothing to do with the fact that she had almost been crushed beneath four sets of wheels. There was something far more frightening standing less than a foot away, peering through the window of Kristoff's truck.

She was almost tempted to flee back into the street.

"What is _that_?" she exclaimed, cowering behind Kristoff's shoulder with wide eyes. The window was rolled down halfway, and over the rim of the glass hung a massive face of thick fur and sharp teeth. It was some kind of monster. It watched her keenly with glinting hazel eyes, and it was bound to eat her alive. She was certain of it.

Kristoff glanced down his shoulder and stared at Anna like he'd never seen anything quite like her before. "Do you know you almost died just now?"

"Uh-huh, okay, sure, yeah, but what _is_ that?!" She was clutching his arm so tightly she was surprised he didn't wince.

He continued to watch her bemusedly. The confusion was evident in his tone. "That's my business partner."

"No, no, no." She risked a closer peek at the animal, doubtful. "That is a _bear_."

"No," he said, prying her fingers from around his forearm and speaking slowly, as if to a child, "that is my business partner." He kept one hand set firmly against the small of her back, holding her steady when she instinctively tried to shrink back towards the moving traffic. "His name is Sven."

"Sven," she repeated breathlessly.

"Yeah. He's a dog. And he's my best friend."

"Ah. A dog. Great." She was shaking so hard her knees knocked together beneath her gown. "And why don't you have, oh, _I_ don't know, a _human_ business partner?"

Kristoff shrugged. "Dogs are better than people."

"Oh." A fluttery sort of half-laugh escaped her throat, and she took a shaky step forward, gathering the courage to fully examine the creature's face. She had never seen a dog in real life before, and she never imagined they could get so big. Sven met her gaze with placid, cheerful eyes. Now that she was truly paying attention, Anna realised that he practically radiated docility and friendliness. She reached out slowly, hesitantly, and felt a curious surge of delight when the dog leaned forward and sniffed eagerly at her hand. It made her laugh. Just like that, her anxiety magically melted away as she eased her hand against the dog's cheek. "Huh. What kind of dog is he, exactly?"

"All different kinds," Kristoff said, standing close beside her as she scratched at the dog's head and face, and there was such a shift in his tone that she raised her head and looked up. He was actually kind of smiling. "Mostly Norwegian Elkhound, I think," he continued, "and probably some Alaskan Malamute. I don't know what makes him so big - I figure there's some kind of mountain dog in there somewhere, too."

She didn't know what any of this meant, but she was glad Kristoff was talking to her in a more genial way. It boosted her chances to get that ride. But for a moment, with her fingers sweeping through Sven's bushy fur, she actually forgot about the party she was due for, and the handwritten speech in her purse, and the promise she had made to Hans that morning; _I won't be late this time, I swear._ She rubbed her knuckles against a spot behind Sven's ears and giggled when one of his back legs thumped against the seat.

"I'd like to have a dog someday," she said thoughtfully.

"I found him when I was a kid," Kristoff told her, reaching out to scratch at the spot above Sven's eyes. "He was just a puppy. I mean, his eyes were barely even open. He was hiding in this sort of crevice up in the mountains and I tried luring him out with all different kinds of food, y'know, smoked jerkey and canned ham and stuff like that. But nothing really did the trick until I held out some carrot sticks. He _really_ likes carrot sticks. Isn't that right, buddy?" He said this last part in an affectionate tone that seemed to be directed at the dog, as if he was actually talking to it. Sven, who was clearly pleased to have two sets of hands giving him scratches at the same time, grinned dopily as if in response to these words. Anna couldn't help but feel amazed by their connection. She was a people person; she had no idea that it was possible to find a sense of companionship in an animal.

"You like vegetables huh, you big weirdo," Kristoff was saying, chuckling as he scratched behind Sven's floppy ears. He leaned forward and briefly touched their foreheads together. "You were just a little fuzzball back then, weren't you? All the way up there in the snow? We were in the same boat, huh?" He chuckled. "You were all alone, too."

Anna looked away from the dog and back up at Kristoff, her smile faltering a little. "Too?"

Her hand bumped Kristoff's through the thick tangles of Sven's fur, and Kristoff pulled away so fast she didn't even realise it was gone until he had already trudged halfway around the truck. She exhaled, stunned, and hastily bound after him, catching up just as he was making his way to the driver's side. Before he could even reach for the handle, she threw herself in front of the door, pressing herself flat against the truck and splaying her arms out to block him. "Wait! What'd I do?"

His warm and amicable demeanour had gone. It was like it hadn't even happened. His smile might never have existed. His expression wasn't necessarily cold, or hard, or even unfriendly - it was just indifferent, like before. Impervious. Neutral. Closed off. Bored. This wasn't the guy from thirty seconds ago who had laughed with his dog and shared childhood memories. This was the guy Anna met twenty minutes ago, who had a no-nonsense attitude and no interest in the people around him. He was just a surly delivery man. He crossed his arms and looked at her like an employee would appraise a particularly bothersome customer. "You didn't do anything," he said impassively, with an air of impatience. "This was fun and all, but I've still got a job to do."

"But..." Anna stared up at him, wide-eyed, futilely hopeful. "I still need your help." Sven must've moved over to the opposite window, because she could feel him sniffing at her braids, tickling her. She might have laughed if not for the situation. "I said I'd pay you, remember?"

Now it was Kristoff's turn to roll his eyes. Unlike her, he didn't even have the courtesy to hide it. "I'm not sure you've noticed, but this isn't a taxi." He uncrossed his arms and reached out, unthreateningly, to clamp a hand on either of her shoulders and lift her straight off her feet with ease. She let out an involuntary squeal - _"Gah!"_ \- as he turned on his heel and set her effortlessly back onto the curb, removing her from his path to the driver's side door. This entire act was so quick and smooth it could have been a dance. "This is a delivery truck," he said brusquely, "and I've got work to do." He turned back to his truck with no second glance.

Anna was left standing on the sidewalk, gawking and stammering incoherently as Kristoff climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door behind him. He had been her last chance, and she blew it. She was all out of ways to bribe or convince him. No quips, no deals, no arguments. She had nothing left to offer. She had nothing. "So you're actually gonna leave me like this?" she said finally. Bitterly. "You're really putting me in a tough spot, you know."

"Oh yeah?" He scoffed, looking up from the ring of keys in his hand. "You wanna hear about tough spots? I sell _ice_ for a living. In _1956_. Do you have any idea what kind of business I get? How many people still keep iceboxes these days? No one. Seriously. I have eleven customers in this whole city, and they're all so old they'll probably keel over by next week." He jammed a key into the ignition and the truck roared to life. Thick plumes of blue-ish smoke sputtered out of the tailpipe. "Trust me, I've got my own problems."

Anna hurried forward, gripping the top of the door's open window with both hands and speaking to him with all the earnest she could muster. "I-I don't have an icebox, but I'll buy ice from you every day. Twice a day, even. For the rest of my life. Just do me this one favour. Please." Her eyes stung, threatening tears, and she hastily blinked them back. "I don't have anywhere else to turn."

He met her gaze steadily and said nothing. Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she saw his eyes soften. Just a little. Then he sighed and looked away. "Stand back, okay?"

Defeat sunk dully into her chest. She took a step back, pouting, and wondered what she was going to do. Her last hope had officially backfired. Maybe she could walk over to town hall and ask to use a phone, and then she could call Hans. He'd be disappointed in her for sure, but he could help. Or maybe she might be able to ask for a map and head to the hotel by foot. This would make her late, so very late, but at least she'd get there on her own. And Hans would still be disappointed, wouldn't he? There was nothing to be done. The idea was enough to form a lump in her throat. And yet, as her thoughts ran wild with substandard ideas and undesirable scenarios, Kristoff's truck still hadn't moved. It rumbled and puffed, completely stationary, and a flicker of hope sparked dimly inside Anna's chest. She watched him silently, unsure what to expect.

"Hold out your arm," Kristoff told her, in a tone like an exaggerated sigh.

"What?" She eyed him curiously, but seconds passed and he still didn't elaborate so she went ahead and did as she was told. Her hand hung limply in the air. "Why am I-?"

"Higher." Was that the faintest trace of a smirk on his face?

Anna huffed irritably and straightened her arm, lifting it up as high as it could go and propping her other hand against her hip. "What exactly is this supposed to accomplish?"

In response, he brought his thumb and forefinger up to his own mouth and blew, hard. The resulting whistle rang out so sharply it pierced Anna's eardrums and echoed down the street. She blinked, slightly impressed, but even more confused than she already was. "What-?"

And, like magic, a black and yellow-checkered taxi cab pulled up right behind the truck.

Anna gaped, amazed, before turning back to look at Kristoff. His truck was already pulling away. She was left standing there in the afternoon sun with her right arm still raised and the cab driver eyeing her expectantly.

"Where to, ma'am?"

"Um..." Anna glanced back down the road, watching the back of Kristoff's truck shrink into the distance and disappear around a corner. She hadn't even gotten the chance to say goodbye to him. Or thank him. Or yell at him. She briefly wondered if she would ever see him again, and it made her stomach feel strangely hollow. She didn't like it. She was determined to shake the feeling off. She straightened her gown, adjusted her fringe, and fixed a bright smile to her face before traipsing up to the cab driver. He had a shiny red scalp and tired eyes. "The Saxifrage, please," she told him, clambering into the backseat and pulling the hem of her gown in after her. "On 113th and Forrade Street. And, ah... step on it, please." She'd always wanted to say that to a cab driver. She brushed idly at the goosebumps on her arms and did her best to forget the events of the last hour.

Finally, things were going to go according to plan.

* * *

The city passed outside her window in a series of flashes and lights, and she sat with her hands pressed against the glass and her mouth wide open the entire time. The sheer size of the buildings was astonishing. The amount of people that bustled and weaved through their doors was unbelievable. People were everywhere; fussing with their neckties, running up stone steps, waiting at crosswalks. Entering shops and leaving them with handfuls of glossy shopping bags and white styrofoam cups. Bakery bread. Plastic-wrapped suits. Ice cream cones. They walked in pairs, in groups, individually, with dogs at the ends of leashes and babies buckled into strollers. They sat on park benches and ate on restaurant patios. They chatted, they laughed, they hollered at each other. There was constant communication. They were always interacting. In a place like this, it was impossible to be alone.

For someone like Anna, the idea was thrilling.

By the time the taxi reached Forrade Street, she had managed to push Kristoff and his dog away from the front of her mind. She eagerly replaced them with daydreams of the Saxifrage ballroom. Vivid images of the decorations, the dinner, the dresses, the dancing, the look on Hans' face when she showed up on time... she envisioned it all so clearly. Hans was probably waiting to greet her at the doorway, all tall and fair. He would tell her how beautiful she looked and kiss her hand. Or maybe she could make a grand entrance. She would sweep in while Hans was busy boasting about her to the other guests, and then he would turn around and see her standing there in her shiny green dress, and he would excuse himself from the crowd. He would approach her, brush her hair back behind her ear, press a kiss to her cheek, make her blush. Bring her a drink that wasn't too bitter and introduce her to all of his friends. Play idly with the ribbons in her hair. They'd eat chocolates beneath the glow of the fairy lights and whisper silly jokes to each other, and when the time came she would join the other girls on stage and be introduced as a real debutante. It was practically like being crowned princess. There would be even more dancing and laughter, and then everyone would gather outside for fizzy drinks and fondue beneath a moonlit sky. The night would end in a dreamy fairy tale haze. Classic romance.

All these thoughts made her smile so hard her cheeks hurt.

"Should be right up here," the cab driver called over his shoulder, snapping her out of her reverie, and her giddiness spilled over so much she bounced a little in her seat. Her eyes dropped from the extravagant line of skyscrapers outside her window to gaze adoringly at the diamond on her finger. It glinted up at her cheerfully. For the hundredth time that week, she admired the way the stone glittered and flashed with every movement of her wrist, the way it winked in the sun. It reminded her of Hans' eyes. Her heart felt like a vat of melted chocolate and it made her head spin in a delightful sort of way. This is really it, she thought. This is what real happiness is. After a long empty childhood of loneliness and confusion, she would finally be living the way she always did in her dreams. A simple but lavish life filled with ballrooms and banquets, taxi cabs and skyscrapers, fondue and flowers, a fiancé that treated her like royalty and a whole future in front of her. In a few months there would be a wedding, more chocolate, more dancing, and then a house and babies and maybe even some dogs. The possibilities were limitless. She wasn't afraid of any of them. She was dazzled by it all. She had waited her whole life for this.

For the first time in forever, she finally found a world in which she might actually, truly belong.

And yet, something nagged prominently at the very back of her mind. Something new. It nibbled and chewed through her excitement like a determined mouse and brought back that hollow feeling, the one she'd felt when that ice truck had driven away. It was a feeling she couldn't quite manage to shake, no matter how crowded her head was with parties and wedding gowns and chubby red-haired babies. It was persistent. It was like a voice that rose over everything else, spoken by a surly delivery man who, for just a second, had seemed just as lost in this world as she was. As she pretended not to be. His words were repeated in a circle, over and over again, ricocheting through her mind like an echo.

_You were all alone, too._

* * *

The taxi pulled into the hotel's portico and let her out right near the entrance. She thanked the driver twice, tossed a fistful of money at him, and sprinted down the walkway with vigor, gripping her clutch in one hand and the front of her gown in the other. In spite of her concerns about being horribly late, she was actually a bit early, but she was far from the first to arrive. A sea of bodies obscured the hotel's front doors, all dressed in evening gowns and pinstriped suits and placid smiles, all lingering outside to chat. She bobbed and weaved through the crowd, her heart racing, her ears ringing with the thick buzz of mingled chatter, grateful she chose to wear flats instead of heels as she promptly hopped up the front steps. Two men in black tailcoats held the doors open as people spilled inside, and Anna nodded to them shyly before facing the room in front of her and allowing her breath to be completely stolen.

It was the largest room she'd ever been in. The ceiling was dizzyingly high and formed a wide round dome over her head, painted black as night and sprinkled with diamond-like stars. An enormous crystal chandelier hung stoically from its center, supplying the room with a warm subtle glow. The very air seemed to sparkle. Anna descended the stairs slowly, determined to get a good look at everything. She had given up trying to keep her jaw in place. The white marble floor was like snow beneath her feet, the scarlet curtains perfectly complemented every chaise and chair, and the afternoon light filtered warmly through the towering arched windows, which offered a stunning view of the mountains beyond. It was all so grand. So elegant. It overwhelmed her.

A space near the center of the foyer had been cleared for a buffet table, and Anna made a beeline for it. She was greeted with countless trays of crackers and cheeses, baskets of fruit, crystal bowls of rainbow drinks, steaming pots of fondue and jam and smoked meat. In the center of it all stood a magnificent chocolate fountain. She spent the next few seconds grappling with the urge to dunk her entire face into it before eventually settling for a chunk of skewered pineapple.

This was going to be the _best_ night.

Several moments later, there was a voice just behind her. "Anna?"

"Mmpf?" She whirled around, her cheeks bulging and a bit of chocolate dotting her upper lip.

It was Hans. He stood a few feet away, looking positively dashing in his white suit and gloves. Her heart swelled up like a balloon. She tossed a handful of empty skewers aside and rushed forward, throwing her arms around his neck and laughing into his ear. "I was almost late!" she told him enthusiastically through her mouthful of fruit and chocolate, pulling back to look at him with delight. "It was a wild ride, believe me, but I got it figured out and now I'm here!"

She may have been imagining it, but she thought his smile seemed a bit fixed. "Darling," he said quietly, throwing a sideways glance at the guests around them. "Why didn't you take the limo?"

There was a stringy piece of pineapple stuck between her teeth. She pried at it idly with her tongue. "It never showed up. I figured it wasn't coming, so I just-"

"It _was _coming," he told her, gently prying her hands from around his neck and snagging a napkin off the table. He began to dab lightly at the chocolate on her upper lip. "The driver called me ages ago, he got caught in traffic. He waited outside for you for nearly twenty minutes. If you'd gone with him, you would have been here on time."

"But..." She mumbled awkwardly around the napkin. "I _am_ on time. The ball doesn't start till four."

"Oh, Anna." He seemed satisfied with the state of her face and tossed the napkin aside. "We discussed this. You were supposed to be here at three. My company's sponsoring the ball. I have an obligation to be here before everyone else, and, as my future wife, you do too."

"Oh." Her heart deflated like a balloon. "I didn't mean... ah..." She trailed off, dropping her gaze. "I'm sorry." Her cheeks felt hot. Her stomach twisted. She suddenly regret eating so much chocolate. "I didn't mean to let you down."

Hans' eyes softened a bit, and he sighed, taking her hand in his and leading her away from the buffet table. "I know you didn't," he told her, and this time he offered her a smile with a bit more warmth. "Come on. Let's go join the others."

A circular stage and makeshift archway had been set up on the left side of the of the hotel's lobby. Hans steered Anna through the uniform rows of white wicker chairs, which several people were already starting to settle into, and guided her to a curtained area at the back of the stage, where a dozen other well-dressed women stood chattering excitedly. More future debutantes. They scrambled around the small space in a frantic jumble, fussing with their hair and adjusting their gowns and fidgeting with jewelry. Anna eagerly joined them. She spent the next half hour in a nervous flutter, allowing herself to be passed through the hands of several makeup artists, who apparently weren't thrilled with her choice of sparkly lip gloss. Her face was wiped clean and redone in five minutes. When it was time to line up, Anna giddily took her place with the other junior debutantes, tugging at the gold pendant around her neck. Most of the other young women didn't acknowledge her, as usual. But one of the friendlier ones, a tall dark-haired girl named Gerda, quietly passed her a handkerchief with a kind smile. "When no one's looking, wipe off that rouge. It's a crime to hide those freckles."

The ceremony commenced. Names were called out in the voice of the hotel's owner, Mr. Wessel, and when Anna's time came she might have fainted if it weren't for Hans holding her arm. He lead her up the steps and out into the spotlight, and she was named a debutante in front of an applauding crowd. She clutched her bouquet of lilies - she had requested sunflowers, but Hans had insisted lilies suited her better - and did her best not to cry from sheer joy during her speech. Her effort wasn't entirely successful. The silver powder around her eyelids smudged a bit, but she didn't mind. The dancing was about to start.

Hans had warmed to her considerably since the start of the ceremony, and they danced for hours. He was just like before. He held her close enough to make her blush, and he whispered silly observations into her ear, like how Mr. Wessel's mustache looked like a malnourished hamster. She giggled into his shoulder and sighed, breathing in the scents of silk and cologne and feeling absolutely content. If her spirits lifted any higher, she'd be flying.

When he pulled away to twirl her, she practically was.

Later she danced with some of the other debutante's dates, and a few attending businessmen, and Mr. Wessel, whose dance moves were so jerky and erratic he reminded her of a plucked turkey. She always ended up back in Hans' arms though, and that's where she liked to be. She chatted with Gerda and some of the other less aggressive debutantes, and she stifled the snorts in her laugh just like Hans advised her to do. She made several return trips to the food buffet when nobody was paying attention. She sipped the sparkly drinks the waiters offered her from their small trays until her head felt fuzzy and she had to stop. She rested on a chaise with Hans at her side and listened to him converse with a couple of businessmen. The night grew late and cozy. Her legs ached from dancing. Her heart thrummed with delight. She had never felt so serene. This was how every night was going to feel from now on, she realised. This was the beginning of the rest of her life. She hummed softly to the music that the other guests still danced to, and kicked off her shoes, propping her feet up on the plush ottoman nearby. She nuzzled into Hans' shoulder and let herself drift into a light doze.

She dreamed about dogs, and milk trucks, and a small girl with white braided hair.


	2. II

Anna sat in the backseat of a particularly shabby taxi cab with her legs crossed and one of her thumbnails wedged between her teeth. Her heart was skittering. There was a large floral canvas bag propped up in her lap and a million thoughts scurrying through her mind. Outside the car's window, the world transitioned from city to suburbs to country-esque fields as the cab neared the outer city limits of Arendelle. The trees grew thicker. The buildings became smaller. There were less flashy cafes and boutiques, and more lone diners and antique shops. She couldn't remember ever being so far from downtown before. It was riveting. The mountains looked especially beautiful without the city's skyline obscuring them.

In the last week since the debutante ball, she had perfected the act of hailing a cab with an ease that she personally considered mastery. She couldn't whistle like Kristoff could, but a cab would always stop for her if she waved with enough vigor; especially when she hopped up and down on her toes. The ability to travel through the city as she pleased was a luxury she still hadn't fully processed. Sure, Hans had a limo to offer at her disposal, but it required phone calls and scheduling and long dull silences with his quiet chauffeur, Kai. The taxis were just so much more... _her. S_pontaneous. Interesting. Filled with limitless and unexpected surprises. The streets became hers with a wave of her hand. Each cab driver had a story to tell, or a new language to share, or a unique collection of insults to shout at traffic. The places she could go weren't expected to be trendy or elegant or reputable. She could visit the zoo, the lake, any park, every museum. There was a boundless range of destinations that only needed to be spoken aloud to be seen. In the entire eighteen years of her life, Anna had never been given such an opportunity to explore so freely.

She was eager to take full advantage of it.

Today wasn't a day for random adventures, however. As a new senior debutante, part of Anna's duties included volunteer work, and since she had been late to sign up—she'd still been getting the hang of her cab-hailing technique—she'd been left with a limited selection to choose from. Originally she had hoped for something involving the animal shelter, or the children's daycare. But those had been some of the first slots taken, along with work at the food kitchens and the local churches and the public library. The only remaining options left for her had been either the post office or the psychiatric hospital

Anna loved to be around _people. _She didn't want to sit around organising mail and licking stamps in a small, silent office all day. She wanted to interact, socialise, connect—even if it meant doing so with people who were considered "unhinged" by the general public. So, ultimately, of course she went with the hospital. The way she saw it, people used to call _her_ crazy all the time. And look how great she was!

Her assigment involved visiting the hospital every Thursday for the next three months and entertaining the more sociable residents, so she brought along some fun things to do. This was precisely what had nearly made her so late today. She just couldn't make up her mind about what to bring on the first day. She'd stood in the parlour for nearly twently minutes, debating with the wall portraits on whether she should bring board games or art supplies. She even started scribbling plans and ideas for her next few visits in the ratty old notebook she kept under her pillow. Had Hans been there, he might have called her an overthinker, but she knew that wasn't quite right.

She was an overachiever.

The taxi suddenly came to a stop, and Anna turned eagerly in her seat and smushed her nose against the window's glass. She was nervous, but—as it often did these days—her nervousness came with a sense of excitement and anticipation. She couldn't wait to brighten somone's day.

But when she got a good look at her destination, her face fell almost instantly.

"Oh. Ah..." She peered at her surroundings uncertainly. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

"Yep." The driver turned to squint at her with a set of heavily-browed eyes. "What's a girlie like you visitin' the nuthouse for, anyway?"

"Erm..." She forced her smile back into place and gathered up her bag, opening the car door. "I'm here to have some fun, that's what."

She paid her fare and turned to face the looming building, unable to completely swallow the anxiety that stuck in her throat. The place was made entirely out of brick and shadows. There weren't many windows. The lawn was well trimmed but yellowed, no flowers, and framed by a tall wire fence. It seemed intended to hold people in more than keep people out. A set of wide stone steps lead up to a pair of tall steel doors, and there was a metal sign set above the entrance.

_Andersen's Home for the Emotionally Troubled and Unsound._

"Yikes," Anna whispered under her breath, and started forward. The gate whined when she pushed it, and she tromped noisily through the dying grass and ambled up the steps without hesitation, tugging the door open with all her might. She was welcomed by a wide, poorly lit room that seemed to be some kind of lobby. Or waiting room. There were itchy-looking chairs and round tables and magazines, and a tall counter built against the furthest wall. A young woman, not much older than Anna was, looked up from a receptionist's desk behind the counter, and frowned. The nametag on her blouse read _Elise__._ She looked like she wanted nothing more than to leave.

"May I help you?"

Anna help up her bag. "I'm volunteering with the senior debutantes of Arendelle," she said, and offered a meek smile. "I'm... I'm here to liven up the place."

The woman didn't smile back. She simply nodded and hit a large button on the counter beside her, which buzzed loudly. Anna stared blankly for a second before realising the button must have activated the elevators along the left wall.

"You want the second floor," Elise told her, turning back to the paperwork on her desk. "First hall on the right, all the way down to the end. Don't mind Henry, he keeps to himself." As Anna crossed the room to pull open the grate, she swore she heard an additional mutter of _"good luck."_

The elevator was jerky and its lights were yellow-ish. The striped walls and cage-like doors gave Anna the feeling of being trapped in a small, groaning cell. She didn't like it at all. It was nothing like the gentle glow and hum that always accompanied the journey to Hans' living room; _his_ elevator had plush cherry-coloured benches, and a bowl of raspberry mints set out between the seats. She closed her eyes and tried to picture these small comforts as the elevator clanked its way to the second floor.

Fortunately, the trip was brief. The arrow over the door struck the bronze number two with a cheerful ding, and Anna hopped out with relief, stepping into a short dim corridor that diverged into two longer, dimmer corridors. Somehow this looked even less appealing than the clunky yellow box behind her, but perhaps she'd just grown too accustomed to her new conventional lifestyle; she had to remind herself that she had seen much worse. She had endured darker places than this before. She wasn't about to turn back now. As instructed, she went right, lugging her bag behind her. Her heels clicked sharply against the pale tile floor. Her shadow was a long lanky beast that stretched out behind her as she walked, occasionally broken up by the flickering fluorescent lights. The "Henry" Hilda had mentioned was nowhere to be seen, and the walls on either side of her were lined with a dozen doors. All silent. All with darkened windows. Anna thought she heard muffled movement behind one of them, but she didn't pause to listen. She clutched her bag and hurried on.

The heebie-jeebies were starting to creep up on her.

It was cold here. Why did the staff let it get so cold? Surely the residents weren't comfortable. She continued down the hall at a slightly brisker pace until she came to a large, and somewhat brighter, recreation room. There were a number of squashy orange sofas and armchairs sandwiched between tables and piled with decorative pillows and linen blankets. Newspapers and books and magazines cluttered every available surface. The windows were narrow and high up near the ceiling, letting in minimal sunlight and almost no view. Colourful paintings lined every wall, portraying blurry images of fields and gardens and beaches. She wondered if they had been hung to make up for the lack of scenery.

A small television sat in one corner, and this was where the people that occupied the room chose to be. The screen was fuzzy and snow-speckled, but Anna could just barely make out Lucille Ball's figure bumbling about. The residents - there were maybe ten or eleven in all - sat in armchairs or cross-legged on the floor, dressed in clean grey clothing, watching the screen with dull empty eyes. Anna set down her bag and gave a feeble wave.

"Ah... hi."

Nobody looked up.

She cleared her throat, smoothed out her skirt, and tried again. "Hi!"

One of the residents turned his head. He was a small-ish and round-ish young man, with fine light hair and bright blue eyes. "Hi," he said, with a sad little half-smile, and turned back to the television.

Anna bit her lip. They all seemed so sad. So downtrod. And bored. She wondered if maybe she wasn't the first volunteer to come here, and if maybe the last ones had all left without even trying. Maybe senior debutantes of the past had taken one look at these people's glum faces and wilted postures, and decided they were all lost causes. Maybe these people were just plain impossible to get along with.

Fortunately, Anna had never been one to accept impossibilities.

She rolled up the sleeves of her jumper and crossed the room briskly, standing in front of the television and twisting the large knob on its side, switching it off. The residents collectively blinked at the empty black screen and raised their heads. Not angry. Just surprised. They murmured amongst themselves, shifting and stretching and stirring, as though waking up for the first time that day.

"Why did you do that?" a girl asked, scooping a handful of curls out from in front of her face to reveal wide, confused eyes.

"'Cause you can watch TV any time," Anna said, crossing her arms with a wide smile. "Today, we're gonna do other stuff. What d'you think?"

More murmuring. More ripples of movement. Craning necks, side-cocked heads, uncrossed arms. Hints of curiosity. Shadows of interest. "What kinds of other stuff?" asked the same man from before, with the ice-like eyes. He had a rosy face and a dusting of orange freckles across his nose.

Anna gestured to the canvas bag on the table. "D'you like board games?"

The residents continued to fidget and mumble half-heartedly at the ground, but the man with the icy eyes gave another half-smile. "I like board games," he said shyly.

Anna beamed. With the blue-eyed man's help, she slowly eased each resident from their spot around the television and guided them to each of the tables around the room. Then together they set up the board games. Anna had brought all the classics - Parcheesi, Monopoly, Chinese checkers. She even taught some people how to play. Within the hour, the room was filled with the sound of clacking plastic pieces against cardboard. The residents gradually warmed up. They peered out from their invisible shells. Their shoulders slackened, their jaws eased, their eyes raised. Their guards lowered. They chattered. They whooped. They laughed. Anna sat across from the man with the blue eyes and freckles. She asked for his name. He told her it was Olaf.

"What're you doing here, by the way?" he asked her, midway through their game of Battleship. "You're not like the other volunteers we've had."

"I'm a debutante," Anna said, with her usual fair amount of pride. "I wanna make the world a better place. This seems like a good place to start. B6."

"Oof. Hit." Olaf stuck a blue piece into one of his ships. "That's really nice. I'd like to make the world a better place too, someday. A4?"

"Miss." Anna smiled cheekily before dropping her gaze. She wasn't sure if the question she was about to ask would be considered too personal or not. But Olaf seemed like the open and friendly type, so she gave it a shot. "So, uh... what are _you_ doing here? I mean, how'd you get here? You don't seem... I mean, all of you, actually, you just seem..."

"We seem pretty normal, I know," Olaf said, kindly picking up where she trailed off. "I don't really know about everyone else here, but I guess I'm a little too much for people to handle sometimes. Way too happy and way too loud, y'know? My doctor calls it, uh, high-per-kin-et-ick immmm-pulse disorder." He pronounced it slowly, like he was still getting the hang of saying it, and gave a cheerful shrug. "It's got a lotta big words and I guess it scared my parents, 'cause they sent me here for a few months. But all it really means is that I get distracted super easily." He glanced down at his game board thoughtfully. "Seems kinda wrong to lock someone up just for being distracted. I mean, the only thing I ever did wrong was daydream in class and fail geometry."

Forgetting the game in front of her, Anna met his gaze, aching with sympathy. "That's terrible, Olaf," she said quietly. She spent a moment looking around the room, at the residents that fumbled and laughed with their new board games. "Is that why everyone else is here? For being too distracted?"

"Yeah, some of them. Or for being too sad, or too scared of things." Olaf followed her gaze, watching the other residents talk and play. "It's not so bad. I think everyone knows we're not really crazy; our families just don't know what to do with us. Or we've got nowhere else to go. No one in this wing is actually _dangerous, _though_. _Not most of us, anyway. You gonna go?" He nudged her foot lightly with his own and gestured to the game. "It's your turn."

The shift in conversation caught Anna off guard, and she failed to hit one of his ships. Her mind still lingered on his words. They played for a while longer, and eventually Anna won. Olaf crossed his arms with a pretend pout and demanded to know how she got so good at Battleship. She gave him a jaunty smirk as she packed the game pieces away. "Lots of practice, my friend, lots _o'_ practice. I used to play games like this every single day. You'll get better."

"Nuh-uh," Olaf said happily, helping her gather the pieces. "I'm no good at stuff like this. Only thing I've ever been good at is looking at pretty things out my bedroom window."

"Yeah? Well, what d'you like to look at?"

"Lots of stuff! The beehive that hangs from the oak tree. The dandelions in the yard. The pet store down the street. And Summer." He ducked his head suddenly in a bashful sort of way, as though he'd accidentally just revealed something personal.

With a spark of amusement, Anna noted the blush in his cheeks. "Summer?"

"Yeah." Olaf glanced off to the side and began fidgeting with the game pieces. "She, ah... delivers the newspaper."

"_Oh_." Anna resisted the temptation to grin or raise her eyebrows. She didn't want to embarrass him. "So does she, uh, come here every day?"

"Not Sundays," he said bashfully, still not meeting her gaze, "but every other day, yeah. She always comes at 3 and leaves the paper on the lawn. And she... she rides this blue bicycle with flowers painted all over it. It's got a little white basket on the front. And she always has her hair up in this curly twisty sort of knot, and she wears these big colourful hoopy skirts, and I... I d'know." His eyes lowered with a dreamy sort of look. "I like those days."

Anna bit back a giggle. "Is she pretty?"

Olaf didn't answer her at first. He blushed brighter still and smiled at the ground. "She's like... _sunshine_."

Anna loved this kind of stuff. Her heart swelled at the sight of Olaf getting all fuzzy and starstruck, because it made _her_ feel fuzzy and starstruck, like when she listened to soaps or read romance novels. More than anything else in that moment, she wanted to see Olaf's smile returned by the girl he adored so much. The thought made her clasp her hands together and restrain the urge to squeal. She knew love was the most powerful thing in the world, because she was _in_ it. She wanted everybody else to feel it, too.

"Next time Summer comes by," Anna said, leaning down to level her eyes with Olaf's, "I want you to give her a little wave, okay?"

Olaf's already-light face lightened a shade more as he paled a little. "Oh, I don't know. She probably thinks I'm crazy, living in a place like this."

"_Or _she'll think you're handsome, because you _are_, and she'll wave back!" Anna stood up straight and placed her hands on her hips. "Next time I come here, I wanna hear all about it. Consider it an assignment. Due a week from today."

Olaf beamed. "You're coming back?"

"Every Thursday," she told him, collecting her bag, "and I'll bring lots of new things to do! You guys can keep the board games." She bid everyone farewell and headed cheerfully towards the exit, followed by a chorus of goodbyes and laughter.

The corridor seemed a lot brighter since she had ventured through it a few hours ago, and she walked with a slight spring in her step. She made it to the large door at the end and was just about to speak into the intercom to be let out, when she hesitated. Something had dawned on her. She turned around. The doors stood tall and silent on either side of her. Under her breath, she counted to herself. When she finished, she made her way swiftly back toward the rec room, paused in the doorway, and counted. There were eleven residents in the room, including Olaf. They were all still enjoying their new board games. Anna whirled back around to face the hallway and, once again, she counted.

_"1, 2, 3, 4..."_

Twelve. There were twelve doors lining the corridor, and only eleven people in the rec room. Maybe one of the rooms was just unoccupied? Maybe it was for storage, or a spare restroom. But hadn't she heard movement behind one of those doors? Her eyebrows knit. She turned her head and called over her shoulder. "Hey Olaf! Is everyone out here?"

"Huh?" Olaf looked up from a game of Scrabble he'd started with a scrawny young woman. His cheeks had resumed their natural rosiness. "Oh, yeah, everyone's here. Everyone except #8."

"Number eight?"

"Yeah, room #8. The white-haired girl. But she never comes out." He lowered his gaze and resumed the game, as if this information required no further explanation.

"Hmm." Anna peered back down the hallway, cocking her head to the side. "What's her name?"

"No idea," Olaf said casually, spelling out the word _puddle_ with wooden Scrabble tiles. "She never comes out. I don't think anyone ever goes in, either. She leaves her laundry out in the hall for the staff, and she's the only one who gets her food through the door slot. I've never even seen her door open before."

"Hmm," Anna repeated to herself. After a brief moment of thought, she once again made her way down the corridor. This time she stopped in front of the door with the silver number _8 _painted on it. She leaned forward and touched her ear to its cool wooden surface. No sounds, as far as she could tell. She might've believed it to be empty, had Olaf not told her what he'd told her. And she had definitely heard someone moving around in there earlier.

Slowly, she raised her hand and knocked. "Hello?"

No response. She knocked again, tapping her knuckles lightly against the wood in a way she hoped wasn't aggressive or annoying. She wanted this person to feel safe and welcome. They might be the too-scared type, like Olaf had told her about. Or the too-sad type. Either way, Anna was determined to make one more person smile.

"Hello? Is anybody in there?"

There was a sound, like gentle footsteps, from behind the door. Anna held her hands around her eyes and pressed her face to the door's small square window, but the glass was too blurry and the room was too dark to see. She pulled away, and was suddenly struck by the odd feeling that someone was standing right on the other side of the door, just a few inches away.

She knocked again, and this time she was answered by a small, clear voice.

_"Go away."_

Anna considered this to be progress. "Do you wanna come out?" she asked, lacing her voice with some extra cheer. "We've got board games out here, and some really nice people to play them with, and-"

"I said _go away_."

"I'm Anna," Anna continued, undeterred. "I was about to go home, but I can stay and play a little more, if you'd like. I've got the time. It can be whichever game you pick. What d'you say?"

There was a lengthy pause. Anna assumed this time was being taken to decide, so she waited patiently. Hopefully. But the answer she got was cold and final.

"Leave me _alone_."

Disappointment twinged in her chest, but she wasn't giving up yet. She wasn't going to feel satisfied until she had brought a little light to everyone. "What about next time, then? I'll be back next week."

She was answered with chilled, empty silence.

But she didn't hear a no.

* * *

"So what did you get up to yesterday?" Hans asked, speaking casually over his newspaper and across the dish-laden breakfast table.

The dining room was alight with the rich glow of morning. It spilled through the tall windows like honey, and Anna looked up from her plate of food and spoke enthusiastically around a mouthful of strawberry waffles. "Lots! I started my volunteer work over at the psychiatric hospital." Maple syrup dribbled down her chin, and she swiped it away with the sleeve of her pajamas. "I was only there for a few hours and I already had the residents coming out of their shells. I mean, they're practically different people! I think I'm already making a huge difference with-"

"Psychiatric hospital?" Hans lowered his coffee mug with raised eyebrows. "You mean the _asylum_? Out on Glasher Street? Why wasn't I told about this earlier?"

Anna chewed her food thoughtfully and swallowed. "Well '_asylum'_ sounds kinda harsh. It's just a hospital. Don't get me wrong - super spooky place. But it's not so bad once you get a chance to-"

"I don't want you volunteering there," he interrupted. His brows lowered into a furrow as he shook his head disapprovingly. "It shouldn't even be listed as an option; _especially_ not to vulnerable young women. No, someone of your status is bound to get targeted."

"Targeted?" The word sounded even harsher than _"asylum."_ She didn't like the way it tasted in her mouth. "Targeted by who? The residents aren't like that. I mean, yeah, they were a little bit... _reserved_ at first. But once I got them to open up, they really-"

"Anna," Hans said sharply, cutting her off a second time. There was that look again; that hint of firmness he had shown her on the night of the ball. It made her heart twinge slightly with fear. "They aren't 'residents.' They're patients. They're dangerous. They may seem normal to you, but they're locked up in that place for a reason, and if you get too comfortable with them they might take advantage of you. They could hurt you. Do you understand?"

Anna swallowed again, this time to remove the lump in her throat. It wouldn't budge. "But they were nice to me," she said softly.

Hans set down his newspaper. He stood up from his chair, placed his hands on the table, and leaned forward, leveling his face with hers. His eyes were different again. Not mad or mean - just _cold_ somehow. Like all the warmth had frosted over.

It frightened her more than anger ever could.

"I don't want you volunteering there anymore," he repeated. He spoke in a dangerously low, overruling sort of voice. "It's not safe."

He wouldn't quite meet her eyes. His gaze was tilted slightly downward, toward the bit of syrup still left of her chin. Was his upper lip curled? It almost looked that way. Like he was disgusted at the sight of her.

Anna shrank back involuntarily, dropping her eyes in a defeated sort of way. She ducked her head and stared at her half-finished breakfast, slouching a little like a puppy who had just misbehaved. She wasn't hungry anymore. Her stomach felt heavy. Her face burned. The air around her was suddenly difficult to breathe, too thick, weighted with her own shame and embarrassment. It hung like a raincloud over her head.

He was right, of course. Of course he was right. She should have chosen to work at the post office. Better yet, she shouldn't have been late to sign up in the first place. But she had muddled things up, just like she always did when she tried to do anything on her own. It dawned on her how stupid she was to attempt anything without help. Without Hans.

She blinked back hot prickly tears. When she spoke, it was almost inaudible. "But we played board games."

Another heavy second passed until, suddenly, it lifted. Just like that. Hans' face returned at once - his eyebrows smoothed, his gaze softened, his lips parted. He looked at her with the same tenderness and warmth he always had. In that moment it was mixed with sympathy, too.

"Oh, Anna."

He sighed and walked around the table, kneeling down beside her and taking each of her hands into his own. Just like he had when he'd proposed to her. "I'm sorry," he told her gently. "I didn't mean to be so curt with you. I just hate to think that anything might happen to you." He reached for a napkin and dipped it into a glass of water, using it to dab lightly at her chin as he spoke. His voice was back to its normal, kind tone. "It makes me uneasy knowing you're spending so much time in such a dangerous place. Plus, with you taking all these cabs lately, it's been hard not to worry. You know?"

He tossed the napkin away and took her chin in his hand, lifting her face to level with his, giving her a reassuring smile. His eyes were so full of affection it made her heart flicker.

"We'll get you some new volunteer work," he told her kindly. "Anything you want. The shelter, even. You've been really into puppies lately, right?"

She nodded wistfully. "Yeah. I guess so."

Hans' smile brightened, and he brushed his thumb against her lower lip, wiping away a strawberry seed. "Then I'll give you puppies. I'll give you anything you want in the world. Okay?"

"Okay." She perked up a little, thrilled by the warmth in his eyes, the devotion in his words, the love that was written all over his face as it neared hers. This feeling dizzied her more than any wine or champagne. Her heart stuttered wildly as his lips met hers, and she allowed her eyelids to flutter shut, her shoulders to slacken, her inhibitions to sink with the glory of another kiss.

It was never long enough; she wanted to lean into his chest and fall into his arms. To twirl her fingers through his hair and trace the contours of his jaw. She was so aware of his hand on her cheek, the languid way his lips moved against hers, the heat of his skin. Something smoldered in the depths of her heart and in the base of her abdomen, something that wanted to draw him closer, to hold him against her.

But, as always, he pulled away after only a few seconds.

The spell broke. She tilted her face into his hand and stared up at him dreamily, grateful that everything was back to normal. She was so lucky to love someone so much. She was so lucky to be loved back. She knew she'd be lost any other way.

"I love you," she told him.

"I love you too."

Outside, a light summer rain started. The windows whispered with the gentle sound of water droplets hitting the glass, sparkling in the morning sun.

"Why don't you take the limo from now on?" Hans said softly after a moment, tucking a loose strand of Anna's hair back behind her ear. "Kai won't mind. At least I can trust him not to go stealing you away from me." He smiled. "Would you do that for me?"

Anna nodded without hesitation, still dazed by his kiss. She would do anything for him.

And yet, as she watched his shiny white Mercedes turn out of the parking lot ten minutes later, an idea began to stir in her mind. An idea that was rapidly growing and branching out to form a plan. This plan wasn't scheming or devious, of course; it was just an easy way to make _everyone_ happy. What exactly had Hans said to her? _I don't want you volunteering there anymore. _

So she wouldn't go to the psychiatric hospital as a volunteer anymore.

But she could go as a visitor.

A sly smile played at her lips as she watched Hans' car fade down the road from the living room window. It looked so small from all the way up in the penthouse, like a shiny white pearl amidst hundreds of pebble-like cars, winding through minuscule streets. She loved him with all her heart. She would do anything for him. But he obviously didn't understand the situation. If he knew what the residents at the hospital were like, he wouldn't be so worried. He was just being protective, like a good fiancé should be. So she would do as he asked; she would volunteer at the animal shelter, she would stop taking taxis, and she would be safe. The psychiatric hospital was plenty safe. Maybe someday, when she figured out how to make him understand, she could even show him.

She hopped off the windowsill and drifted toward the bedroom. The maid wasn't scheduled to visit until the following day, so Anna's clothing from the past week was still strewn across the carpet in wrinkled masses. She would have liked to curl up on the large platform bed—which had been left unmade since she'd crawled out of it earlier that morning—because she still hadn't grown accustomed to being an early riser yet. Usually after Hans left for work, she went back to bed and snoozed until noon. But today, she had errands to run.

As she changed out of her pajamas and pleated her hair, she considered how she was going to get around town from now on. Taxis were officially out of the equation; she had made a promise to Hans, and she was determined to keep it. She was never one to break a promise if she could help it. Still, she couldn't stifle her own disappointment over losing such a thrilling and short-lived freedom. She couldn't use the limo either, regardless of her distaste for it; it was too easy for Hans to keep track of her location. She couldn't let him find out about her future secret trips to the hospital- not until she figured out a way to show him how safe it was.

Other than the transportation issue, maintaining frequent visits to the hospital would be an easy enough feat to keep secret. In the past few weeks since their engagement, Hans and Anna scarcely ever saw each other outside of social events and the occasional meal. They didn't even sleep in the same room together; Hans was always spending late nights in his office, or traveling overnight on business trips. While her heart ached to be constantly at his side - which he jokingly called "clingy" - at least this meant she could do the things she wanted without his knowledge with relative ease. She refused to think of this as sneaky or shady. She saw it more as free-spirited and independent.

Now she just needed a way to get to the hospital every week. She had a growing idea in the works for this as well, but this one was a little more tricky. She weighed the possibilities of it working out as she looped a bit of ribbon through her hair and tied it into a bow at the top of her head. It'd be a stretch, for sure. But with the right motivation and maybe a little bit of shameless begging, it just might work. She considered this as she clasped a string of emerald pendants around her neck and reached for a pair of frilled olive-coloured gloves. She was in the mood for green today.

Hans had left her some money on the nightstand—which she was supposed to use to buy a new gown for an upcoming banquet event later in the week—but she already owned more fancy dresses than she could ever wear, and she wasn't particularly skilled at clothes-shopping anyway. Still, she took the cash and stuffed it into her purse; she had a feeling that this particular plan might require some financial persuasion.

She left the bedroom and made her way back downstairs, careful to take a look at the clock on her way to the elevator. It was nearly 10:30. Perfect. Plus, the rain seemed to already be dying down, which meant she wouldn't have to lug around an umbrella. If she walked slowly and kept a sharp eye out, and if delivery routes stayed consistent, she should find what she was looking for less than a mile away.

* * *

She was right. About the distance part, anyway. Just a few hours later, at a quarter to one, she caught sight of the familiar blue truck on the corner of Fjell and Bunn.

She had managed to kill some time in a nearby doughnut shop, and then later in a cute little toy store a few blocks from the penthouse. She spent the better half of an hour admiring the rocking horses and dollhouse displays in the windows, diligently keeping an eye on the street the entire time. When the truck turned onto the road, loud and large and totally conspicuous amidst the late morning traffic, Anna's heart skipped a beat. The vehicle chugged along clunkily and lurched to a stop in front of a row of townhouses across the road from the toy store, puffing smoke from its rear end and shuddering wildly as it braked. The driver's side door burst open and Kristoff stepped out - looking bulkier than ever in a huge plush flannel coat - before making his way to the back of the truck, just out of Anna's sight. She waited eagerly, pressing her nose firmly to the shop window's glass, until he returned from the truck's back end with a large paper bundle in his arms.

She watched as he made his way up one of the townhome's front steps, knocked on a peeling white front door, and greeted the frail old woman who answered. This woman wore a fluffy white robe and hair curlers. Her face broke into a gummy smile at the sight of him. They exchanged a few words that Anna couldn't hear, on account of her being several yards away and behind a wall of glass; from here, all she could make out of Kristoff was his back. His shoulders shook slightly now and then, as though he were laughing, and then finally he held out the ice bundle, which the old woman accepted graciously. The lady then reached out with her free hand to drop a handful of coins into Kristoff's hand, and give his cheek an affectionate pinch, and then they continued to exchange what looked like idle chit-chat for the next several seconds. Anna fumed impatiently inside the toy store, tapping her foot so rapidly she developed an ache in her ankle.

At last, the white front door closed, and Kristoff turned away from it, heading back toward his truck.

Anna was already flying down the street before he even made it to the first step.

When he caught sight of her, his eyebrows flew up briefly in surprise before scrunching down in clear displeasure. He rolled his eyes and made his way down the crosswalk to meet her, folding his arms into their usual unwelcoming position over his chest. There was a faint pink mark on his face where his customer had pinched it.

"Ah jeez, what're _you_ doing here?"

"Good to see you too, mister grumpy-guss," Anna called over the rumble of traffic, and raised an eyebrow as she fully took in his appearance; the puffy coat, the thick black mittens, the ratty scarf wound loosely around his neck. She felt hot and uncomfortable just looking at him. "What're you all bundled up for? You know it's July, right?"

Kristoff glanced down at himself, as though he hadn't realised he was dressed for a blizzard. In summer. "Just got back from the mountains," he told her, prying the mitts from his hands and shoving them into his back pocket. "Ice doesn't harvest itself, you know."

"Ooh, neato!" The image of icicles growing from the ground like carrots sprang suddenly into her mind, and she stifled a giggle, urging the silly thought away. She arranged her face into the most business-like expression she could muster. "I have a proposition for you."

"Oh, here we go." He reached up and pulled the fuzzy wool cap from his head, releasing a mess of thick blonde hair and a few flecks of partially-melted snow. "How'd you know to find me here, anyway? Have you been stalking me? Do I need to contact the authorities?"

"I wasn't _stalking _you," Anna said, propping her hands on her hips. The breeze blew a couple strands of hair into her mouth, and she sputtered them away gracelessly. "I just did a little math, that's all. See, last week I found you at the city square at around 3:15, right? So I figured that meant I'd find you _here_ at around noon. Ish. And I was right!" She cleared her throat as he shot a doubtful glance at his watch. "Well, more or less."

"Uh-huh. A stalker _and _a math whiz. You're one of a kind." He clearly didn't mean this as a compliment, but she chose to take it as one. "So, what's your proposition? Need me to teach you how to ride a bike? Or book a flight?"

"Very funny." Anna stuck her nose in the air, taking the front of her sundress in one hand and waving her handbag around with the other, all with an air of playful haughtiness. "_I_ am here to buy ice, good sir. So you'd better cut the attitude. You wouldn't wanna lose my business, would you?"

"Well, actually-"

"And _as _a paying consumer of your product," Anna continued, cutting off whatever witty retort Kristoff had in mind, "you ought'a treat me with a _little_ more respect."

"My apologies, your majesty." Kristoff's tone remained unchanged, but Anna could swear she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. "C'mon, seriously. What're you really doing here?"

"I'm buying ice!" Anna repeated cheerfully, ditching the snooty facade as she produced her pocketbook from her bag. She held out the wad of cash Hans had left her. "I made a promise, didn't I? You helped me - I'm helping you. I'm gonna buy ice from you every day. You've just gained yourself a new customer, mister."

Kristoff eyed the money shrewdly. "You're kidding."

"Nope."

"Seriously?"

"Yup."

"Anna..."

His face had changed. He seemed to be having an internal debate with himself. After a short pause, he reached out and took the money from her, briefly leafing through it before glancing up at her with a cocked brow. "This is almost fifty bucks. I charge 9¢ a standard block. Are you trying to buy out my whole stock for the next year?"

"Nuh-uh," she said. "I'm trying to buy a brick. Or a cube. Or whatever you ice experts call 'em. And I'd like it delivered to my penthaste posthouse." She paused. "I mean, my pent_house _post_haste."_

Kristoff visibly hesitated. Then he slapped the money back into her palm. "Forget it."

"No! Don't forget it!" Anna clenched her fist around his hand before he could fully pull it away, and for a moment they grappled - awkwardly - in the middle of the crosswalk, ignoring the odd looks from passerby. Obviously he was much stronger than she was, but she was determined; she clung to his hand like a barnacle with both of her own, and she stubbornly resisted his attempts to shake her off. Eventually, he raised his arm high over his head, and Anna found herself dangling off the ground with her feet hovering several inches above the asphalt. The cash was still sandwiched between both of their palms. Anna considered this a partial success. At this height, their eyes were perfectly level, and Kristoff squinted irritably at her. She squinted back, crossing her free arm firmly across her chest.

"Your move, buster."

"Why are you doing this?" Kristoff asked. He lowered her gently to the ground and made another attempt to pry his hand from hers, and—since he kept the money in his grasp this time—she gladly acquiesced. He gazed down at the wad of rumpled bills with an expression that was both stunned and repulsed. He looked like he wanted to ball it up and toss it into the gutter. He looked like he wanted to cram it into his pocket and run. "This is more than I make in a month," he told her, letting out a sharp, dry laugh. "This is more than I make in _two_ months. It's more than I pay for rent or food or gas."

His voice had gone quiet. It had also softened considerably, just like it had before with Sven, and once again Anna got the feeling that she was tapping into a different version of Kristoff; the real, genuine Kristoff. He raised his gaze from the money in his hands and looked at her with sincere perplexity.

"Why are you doing this?" he repeated.

His eyes were brown, Anna suddenly noticed. Not a muddy or murky brown; they were deep and full, like chestnuts. Or chocolate. She loved chocolate. That's probably why it took her so long to regain her train of thought.

"I, uh... because I promised," she said firmly, blinking a little faster than usual. "You helped me out. I'm helping you out. That's what friends do, isn't it?"

"We aren't friends," he said shortly, but slipped her a wry half-smile.

"_What?" _She returned his smile with her own toothy grin. "C'mon. You and I? We're the best of chums."

He let out another short chuckle, except this one sounded more real. The hand that held the money still hesitated just above his pocket. "I'm not looking for charity, you know."

"I know," Anna said seriously. "This is a legitimate purchase from a legitimate business. Think of the extra as just... interest."

"That's a lotta interest," Kristoff said. Reluctantly, he slipped the cash into his pocket. "This won't come back to bite me, will it?"

"Well..." Anna lowered her gaze to the side, tugging sheepishly at one of her braids. "No, but it might count towards my next purchase."

"Your next purchase?"

"Yeah." She clasped her hands together casually, rocking back and forth on her heels. "I, uh, need a favour."

Kristoff's eyebrows lowered, but his eyes didn't harden completely. When he spoke, he sounded more exasperated than annoyed. "Anna, I told you I'm not a taxi."

"I know!" She fidgeted, offering him a cringing smile as she made a final, lame attempt at conviction. She'd already given everything she had. This was her last shot. "But you're my chum. Remember?"

_There_ was a real smile. If Anna had blinked, she might've missed it; but she hadn't, and it was there. A quick flash of teeth. The sudden appearance of a dimple in his left cheek. Then it vanished, and he re-crossed his arms and looked at her sternly for a long time. Considering her. She made her eyes as wide and pleading as she could, and held her breath. She crossed her fingers. And her toes.

"All right." He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. Where do you need to go?"

Utter relief swept over her, and she felt lighter and bubblier than champagne. "Glasher Street!" she exclaimed giddily, stifling the urge to leap with joy, or throw her head back and whoop. Or hug him. "Every Thursday, for the foreseeable future. I know it's a little bit out of the way, so I'll pay you $10 for each trip." She paused. "_And _I'll share any snacks I bring."

"You don't have to pay me _every_ time," Kristoff told her, shaking the large flannel coat from his shoulders as he turned and walked back toward his truck. Anna followed. "You've given me enough already; trust me, it'll get me by for awhile. Besides, I pass that road on my way up to the mountains anyway. If you can be ready by 8, I can drop you off on the way, and then pick you up again on my way back into town for deliveries."

"That'll work!" Her heart felt lighter than air. She wanted to sing. This was actually working out and she could hardly believe it. She would get to keep visiting the residents at the hospital. She'd get to play more games with Olaf. She'd get to attempt another shot at coaxing the mysterious girl from her bedroom. All of this on top of getting to volunteer at the animal shelter, which Hans had insisted he'd be able to arrange. It was like she was doing twice as much good. Her weeks would be filled with puppies _and_ playtime. She'd be making the world a better place. And it was all totally worth the half-hour rides she'd have to endure with the grumpy delivery man, who was clearly not nearly as grumpy as he let on.

When she and Kristoff approached the truck, Sven roused from his spot in the passenger seat where he'd previously been dozing. He popped his big shaggy head out the car window, and his tail thumped wildly against the worn leather headrest at the sight of Anna. He licked eagerly at her hands when she reached out to him. His fur was matted slightly with melted snow and dried mud, and the joy of seeing him on top of everything else was almost too much for Anna. She looked up at Kristoff with a jubilant smile and—without thinking—she stood up on her tiptoes and planted a light kiss on his cheek.

Kristoff visibly tensed.

"Thank you," Anna told him, a little embarrassed at her impulsiveness, but she couldn't help it; her gratitude could not be contained. The man deserved a kiss. "Seriously. Thank you for everything. You're doing me a real solid here, and you don't know how much it means to me."

"Ah..." A faint tinge of pink had formed on Kristoff's face, just beneath his eyes. He pressed a hand to the back of his neck and dropped his gaze, clearing his throat with a sheepish laugh. "Don't mention it."

When he raised his eyes to meet hers again, it was with a slightly tilted—but very genuine—smile.

Anna beamed.


End file.
